The Tears in his Eyes
by Perryshmirtz-Kyman
Summary: The murder. The secrets. It overwhelmed Eric. He clenched his fist, throwing the journal at the wall. Pictures of a red-headed boy flew all around, drifting to the floor. He let a sob out. Eric got up from his place and walked toward the door, embracing the night air. He'd leave his hiding. He'd return to South Park and make amends with Kyle. He'd have to eventually, wouldn't he?
1. Going Home

It was the day. Eric Cartman growled lightly, staring out the window as a tear rolled silently down his face. He has to move. Far, far, far away. The words kept repeating through his head. Secrets. Jobs. Money. Murder. The last word stung and he brought a hand down onto the desk, splitting some of the polished top. Murder. He couldn't run away from that forever. He started crying heavily. He didn't want this to happen, never intended for the younger boy to see it happen, but he did. Now he must run. Run far, far, far away. He walked to his bookshelf and began steadily flipping pages in a small written journal he kept. His life plan was written in it. He ripped out every page with the word 'Kyle' written on it, eyes brimming with unshed tears. He wouldn't cry over that boy. Not now, not again. He'd been spending years ridding himself of that plague. He'd finally ruined every bit of a chance he'd had at being in a decent relationship with the Jewish boy. The night it happened. The murder. The secrets. It overwhelmed Eric. He clenched his fist, throwing the journal at the wall. Pictures of a red-headed boy flew all around, drifting to the floor. He let a sob escape him. The secrets pained him. He could've told the Jewish boy. No. No he wouldn't have. It was to much to bear. He couldn't face Kyle after that. Eric got up from his place and walked toward the door, embracing the night air. He'd leave his hiding. He'd return to South Park and make amends with Kyle. He'd have to eventually, wouldn't he? Eric sighed softly and walked up to a child waiting for him outside. The young girl was bundled with ragged coats.

"Ready Eric?" She asked, voice soft. She was ten, hair a soft brown. All of her clothing was ripped and her face littered with bruises. She was the sister of a good friend, Eric thought, he could trust her.

"Ready Karen." He whispered, breath a cold air in the night as they set off walking. The secrets... he hadn't kept them close to heart. Not until the night he must return. Not until the night he saw Kyle again. Karen looked up to Eric, he knew, she respected him. Everything he'd done she'd respected. She had no idea about the job, the murder, the secret... Eric sighed, banishing the thoughts from his head. She mustn't know, mustn't worry about this. It was none of her concern. They approached the small bus stop. Eric handed the driver a crisp fifty and the bus slowly moved along. The younger girl snuggled close to Eric for warmth as she dozed off. Eric pulled out his phone. He dialed an all too familiar number. The dial tone buzzed in his ear and he redialed. "Stan." He said thankfully into the receiver. Thank god he had picked up. Eric needed to speak to Stanley. Maybe he knew if Kyle was okay, if he wasn't torn to pieces yet. ... If he knew.

"What?" Stan growled. They weren't really on great terms. Eric sighed, holding Karen close to his side. She mustn't suffer for his mistakes. He knew the question would eventually come tumbling out of Eric's lips. Stan knew how Eric had felt about leaving South Park. When Stan was thirteen Eric had left. He, Kyle, and Karen's brother Kenny had laughed at his expense. They had no idea how much Eric was pained.

"How is he?" Eric asked. He didn't want the name to be spoken. It hurt him too much to know how much he'd hurt him.

"He isn't taking it well Fatass. He knows." Stan spoke the words with such hatred it pierced Eric's heart.

"How..." Eric forced out softly. How could he know. He'd tied the loose ends. He'd made sure of it. He wanted to live in peace with the boy. He never wanted this. Murder. It sent an ache through his heart to rethink the night. He forced the images away. It scarred him.

"He just... after what you have done. He just assumed. Who was I to tell him otherwise?" Stan hissed. Eric knew Stanley was with Kyle and it sent a shockwave of hatred through him. Like Stan hadn't known, like he hadn't helped. He knew Kyle was too naïve to understand the portion of the betrayal that Stan had done. Stanley had helped, and wasn't a bit regretful. Stan didn't even shed a tear in Kyle's expense.

"Does he know... does he realize you were a part of it?" Eric asked, an intense anger sparked in his voice that was rarely heard these days. The job. It had changed him. The job had changed him and he knew it. Eric hated to know that this had changed his ways more than anything else, even more than knowing he had killed his own father in fourth grade. He understood the pain he had caused, but he hadn't cared. He had no feelings. He was emotionless. He was nothing.

"No. He has no idea. I plan on keeping it that way." Stan whispered, some rustling in the background noise. Eric knew Kyle was awake. Knew he was approaching Stan. He clicked the button on the phone, hanging up on Stanley and dialing another number into the phone. The next person he needed to speak to was on other regards. The money, Eric thought.

"I have Karen." He spoke into the phone. He heard a soft sigh of relief. Karen was, and always will be, Kenny's sister. Eric looked into the night as they left Nebraska. Left the old dainty down that his family was raised in. He heard something outdoors and noticed the fireworks. July Fourth, he thought, the night it happened. The murder. The escape. Kenny's voice travelled through the telephone.

"Is she okay? Did she make it there?" Kenneth asked, worry lacing his voice. Eric sighed. She wasn't okay, he knew that. She had been alone. She hadn't been beside her brother in over a day. Kenny was her everything. Everything she loved, Eric thought.

"She misses you." Eric whispered, not waking the smaller girl. She was snuggled to his middle, some drool escaping her lips as she slept. She was used to these accommodations, she didn't need luxury to survive. Eric heard Kenny smile. He was used to the poorer boy and could guess his expressions.

"That's good..." Kenneth sighed, happiness in his tone. He loved the small girl. She was the thing he stood for. She was the need for a hero, for a vigilante. Kenny, of course, was Karen's guardian angel. He posed as a masked hero named Mysterion. She had no idea, and Kenny planned on keeping it that way.

"We're on our way. Has my check came in?" Eric whispered. He did this to fund a few things. The murder, he thought, it was for a good thing. He tried to convince this to himself.

"It's here... and... it's five million dollars." Kenneth whispers in amazement. Eric smiled. It would be enough to work with. Enough for now, he hoped, remembering the Jewish boy. Maybe even enough to fix them. No, he thought, never that much. Nothing could bring him back to life. Nothing could erase the murder. Nothing.

"Okay, I'll see you soon." Eric said, swiftly hanging up the flip phone and tossing it out the window. He didn't want the government on his case, not again. He shut his eyes, head lolling to the side. He couldn't let Kyle mourn. He had to show himself again, no matter the pain it put them both through. No matter what, he must let himself make up for the betrayal, the murder, the job. He must tell Kyle the truth.

Eric pried his sticky eyes open, colors flooding the black void as the spots faded. The bus driver was hovering over him.

"We're here." The older man murmured, an anger in his voice. Eric sighed, if he knew. He didn't know, Eric thought, standing up and carrying Karen off of the bus and watching it pull away. He trudged to Kenneth's house. He needed to tell him. He needed Kenny to understand. Eric arrived at the broken down home, ringing the doorbell. Kenny swiftly opened it. He was dressed in a beaten up parka with multiple bloodstains. Kenny, Eric thought smiling, Kenny hadn't changed. At least he had that. Kenny took Karen from Eric's arms and held her close.

"Thank god she's alright..." Kenny whispered, laying her on the old greenish couch. Eric embraced Kenneth, holding him tightly, tears in his eyes. He'd missed the poorer boy. He'd missed him almost as much as he'd been missing Kyle. Almost. Kenny squeezed back tightly.

"I missed you Cartman..." Kenny whispered, wiping his own tears. Cartman, Eric thought, they all still called him by his surname. Nothing had changed. One person died, Eric thought sadly, and no one besides Kyle was affected. No one besides Kyle must mourn. Kyle. Eric sighed sadly. It was his fault Kyle must be put through this incredible pain. His fault Kyle must cry. Those tears, Eric thought, he never wanted them to fall. The boy didn't need to see it happen. The boy didn't need to die for his mistake. He had killed him, and Kyle must suffer the mourning. It wasn't the younger boy's fault. It wasn't his fault, and it never will be. Eric sighed sadly and wiped his teary eyes.

"I'm running again Kenny." Eric cried. He was running again, and this time he couldn't get out of it. Couldn't run away from it. Had to face it. Needed to face it. Eric wiped his eyes and walked out the door into the cold night.

"I'll see you... I'm sorry I have to go." Eric whispered, running down the sidewalk to the one place he knew he could still shelter. His mother had passed two years ago and left the home to Eric. Eric walked in, collapsing onto the couch in sobs. He ruined it. Ruined everything Kyle and he had ever gotten close to having. He'd completely and totally ruined it. The house phone rang. Eric picked it up and answered it. Who would've known to call the Cartman residence for him?

"Y-You murderer!" An angry voice yelled. The voice set a pang rippling through his heart. It was him. It was him, and he was crying. Kyle, Eric thought, it was Kyle. It was Kyle and he was crying. Eric pieced the sentences together in his mind.

"I-I-" Eric began to hold up for himself, tears still coming. Kyle hated him. Hatred was a word seldom used between the boys but Eric knew it applied here. Kyle completely with every emotion in his being hated Eric Theodore Cartman. Eric could guess that Stanley was there with Kyle now.

"Shut up! Y-You killed Ike!" Kyle sobbed into the line. Ike Broflovski. That was the boys name. The accident. The one who saw. It was never intended for Ike to get shot that day. Never would Eric had thought Ike would see. Kyle's brother of all people. Kyle's brother had been shot on July Fourth.

"H-He... It wasn't intentional!" Eric cried into the line. The guilt ate at the boys. Everyone involved that night. Only one of them had killed the boy. Only one, Eric thought, only one Kyle truly believed killed Ike. Now Eric was hated. Eric was hated to his very core by the Broflovski's. Kyle, the one he cared about, hated him the most. He'd always hated Eric. Eric had been running since July Fourth, had done a complete circle around Colorado that year. He'd been missing for a year. Kyle had mourned Ike for a year. It hit him again. It was Eric's fault the sadness came back. It was his fault because he called his gang again and informed them he was coming back. All of the people involved. It had been spread to Kyle he was returning.

"Fuck you." The two words tore through Eric's heart as Kyle said them. Kyle'd hung up on Eric. Eric buried his head in his arms and cried.


	2. Home

Eric opened his bloodshot eyes again four hours later, laying on the floor of the old abandoned house. Its not really abandoned, just... Eric doesn't commonly stay there. He lied there, staring at the ceiling. The paint was chipping off slightly and the old light flickered a dull yellow. He sighed and stood. He couldn't ignore this forever, he thought, grabbing the phone. He instantly speed-dialed number six.

"Huh-Hello?" Butters soft voice answered. All of that innocence in one person, Eric thought, it was sickening. Eric wasn't innocent.

No, quite the contrary. He murdered an innocent person. He couldn't simply forgive himself. He never would, not as long as Kyle was around. Kyle wouldn't let him forget and Eric knew it. He respected it. If his brother was killed, the boy he hated with every fiber of his being, he would go out for revenge. He hated Scott, but if anyone was to end Scott's life it would be Eric.

"Butters. Get your ass over here." Eric said, noticing immediately how pathetic his voice sounded. He must look like shit, he thought. The murder flashed back in his head and he staggered back. Butters was there, had walked by. He didn't see it, Eric reminded himself, he'd just seen Ike's corpse. Eric breathed in deeply, grasping his bearings. Stanley, Craig, and him had all been there that night. Butters hadn't seen anything... Craig and Stan had helped him with the job. Ike wasn't meant to see, Eric sighed raggedly.

"I'm on my way E-Eric..." Butters whispered, hanging up the phone and leaving Eric alone in his thoughts. That night, it flashed back to him. He hadn't remembered pulling the trigger on that gun. Must've blacked out, he thought sadly. Why Ike? Eric let a stray tear fall. Why the hell of all people... why did Ike have to be in the bank when he robbed it? They couldn't leave witnesses. Ike shouldn't have been in there. He was just buying a soda. Eric inhaled sharply, recalling Kyle's sharp tone the night before. Hate. The word kept repeating itself in Eric's head. He hated Kyle, Kyle hated him. That was the way it has always been. It is the way it would continue to be... Eric sighed. One time. One time he let the Jew get to him. Love. The word tore through his conscious while Eric squeezed his eyes shut. No, he thought, I didn't love Kyle. I was confused. He tried convincing himself of that. A sharp sound broke him away from his thoughts. It was the doorbell.

Eric shakily stood, staggering slightly, opening the door.

"Hey. Wuh-Well what's wrong?" Butters asked worriedly. Butters wouldn't understand the pain Eric was going through. Eric sat hesitantly on the couch. The pain. It was overcoming. It was hard to drag himself through. He was homosexual, yes. Kyle was very attractive also. Eric refused to let himself think he loved the boy he'd worked so hard into a pit of hatred. Kyle wouldn't trust him. He would never trust the hazel eyed boy. Never. Those chances were over. Butters stared at Eric in awe and wonder.

"I-" Eric stopped, inhaling deeply. He didn't know how Butters would take the information. He'd start at the beginning, he thought. Keep it simple.

"On July Fourth last year I was involved in a bank robbery. It was simple, I needed money for the rent. Stan, Craig, and I had went to the town bank. W-We shot out a window and demanded cash. We used our old Bane masks." Eric stopped a minute, surveying Butters expression. He looked positively broken. His eyes were a bare blue as his skin paled slightly. He motioned for Eric to go on. Eric closed his eyes, sighing.

"That night we vowed none of the hostages would live. Ike was present in the bank, talking to a worker about an interview for a summer internship. I don't know why, I mean, he was only ten. S-Somehow... they say I blacked out and shot him." Eric breathed in shakily. Butters sat stiffly, hands intertwined. He stared at Eric, embracing him. Eric sobbed into Butters' soft cotton shirt. He was devastated. How could he have let himself kill Ike of all people. The one person that was closer to Kyle than anyone.

He had shot him, Eric thought, Eric Theodore Cartman had ended the life of a ten year old boy. Even though he didn't quite remember it Ike was dead. He was rotting somewhere in the ground because of Eric. Eric got up and walked to the kitchen, raking his hands through his brown hair. He grabbed the only thing left in the small kitchen. It was a small bottle of liquor. The good kind. The illegal kind, he thought. He slowly sipped it. The drink burned its way down Eric's throat. He sighed blissfully. He loved this. The days he could drink his cares away. He knew Butters was still seated in the living room. He didn't care. He never cared about anything. Everything Eric had ever cared for had somehow abandoned him in the span of sixteen years, Kyle included. Eric walked back into the living room.

The room his mother overdosed in. The room that he had his first kiss in. The room he first met Kyle. It flashed back to him. Liane was being introduced to the town when they first moved there. Kyle just stood by his strong-willed mother, clinging to her shirt. Eric Cartman was four years old when Liane and him had moved to South Park. To the town that changed everything.

"Eric... are you alright?" Butters asked softly, holding onto Eric's arm. Eric sighed and whimpered softly. He wiped his eyes and hugged Butters close. Butters squeezed back and smiled. Eric sighed and began talking again. His voice was full of rasp.

"I-I'm gay Butters." He explained softly, taking another swig. He loved the drink. It was the thing that kept him here, kept him alive. Suicide, he thought, I could escape. No, Eric thought, I couldn't do that. He needs to fix things with Kyle. It's the only thing keeping him here. He wanted Kyle to see him for him. He wanted Kyle to love him. He'd possibly never admit that. Never could. It'd changed Kyle, when Ike died. It obviously had. How couldn't it? It was his brother after all.

It was hard for him to be in the same room as anyone he'd grown up with anymore. It was all memories. Memories he'd suppressed for the time he'd ran. He clutched his head. It was too hard. Butters was speaking but he blocked the blonde out. Like always. Just blocking it out. He whimpered slightly. Life had been full of running. Running from his responsibilities, from love, from rejection, from family, from friends. It seemed the only thing he'd actually kept was Kenny and Karen. The only people he could trust. The ones that weren't in the heist. Kenny helped, yes, but didn't participate. He sighed and let Butters hold him. He wouldn't cry. He'd done enough of that.

He'd had enough of Butters. He narrowed his eyes at the boy. He was only trying to be nice. Eric honestly didn't care at all. He was fed up with people. Wanted to be alone.

"Get out of here Butters." He whispered. The blonde nodded and walked out. He wouldn't argue with Eric. He'd never actually protested against Eric. Never. Eric picked the phone up, sighing, calling Kyle. He heard the dial tone. He wouldn't pick up, would he? He did. Eric's heart lodged in his throat. He couldn't fucking believe it.

"What the hell do you want?" Kyle whispered, voice thick. Damn it. He'd caused this. He'd caused the tears that were undoubtedly rolling down Kyle's cheeks. He sighed. He just wanted to make sure Kyle was okay. He just wanted that much.

"I'm fucking sorry, are you okay?" He asked, voice broken and full of emotion that dared to escape. He couldn't let it out. None of the emotion. He hadn't shown any emotion but sadness and regret in years. Since he and Kyle were okay... before Ike died. He still had no recollection of killing the darker haired boy. But he knew he did and it killed him inside everytime he thought about it. He held back a cry.

"No I'm not fucking okay. My brother died by your hands." He hissed. Eric sighed, tears in the sound as he began to think. How could he fix things. Easy. He couldn't. He couldn't ever fix that night. He'd fucking shot the gun, right?

"I'm sorry... I'm so fucking sorry." He whispered, hanging the phone up and beginning to drink. He had to drown these emotions somehow. He had to suppress the urges to go to the redhead. He just sat there, guilt tearing away every shred of life left in the male. He hated what he'd become. A monster. A psychopathic monster, he thought, letting himself become submissive to the drink in his hand.


	3. Making Amends

(A/N: I'm sorry. It has been stressful here lately. I know this chapter is a bit short. Thank you everyone who reviews. I love all of you. I would've never dreamed of such positive reviews. I have another account and all I got was hate. Thank you guys again. -JKC/P-K)

Eric woke up again. Depressed but awake. He decided to finally do something with himself. He couldn't sit around and drown in his sorrows anymore. He got up, sighing softly, and walked into the bathroom. He turned the shower water on. He took his shirt off, sighing and staring at himself. He was hideous, he knew that much. He hated his looks more and more every day. He finished undressing and got into the shower, eyes misted with unshed tears he pushed back. He let the water cascade over his body, trying to push back the haze of guilt he was in.

He scrubbed his hair, eyes closed as his fingers scraped his scalp. He needed to change. To try to fix this fucked up situation. He'd see Kyle today, he thought, he'd see him and try to make things as right as he could. He rinsed his hair, trying to block the image of the heist out of his mind. Butters... Butters was there. It kept getting clearer every time the memory resurfaced. Butters was there, and looked as if he lacked sympathy for the ten year old child. No. He couldn't be thinking correctly. He was doing those weird mind twist things that Kyle had told him ab- no. He couldn't think about Kyle. Not now, not until he got to his home.

He stepped out of the shower after fifteen minutes of vigorous scrubbing to erase the scent of alcohol and cigarettes. He dried his hair and sighed softly, looking himself over. He looked okay. Not happy, not good-looking, but he looked like he was aware he was living. He slid his clothes on, sliding his shoes and hat on and beginning to walk. He sighed softly when he saw the snow. His time out of this hick mountain town hadn't been exactly cold. He shivered slightly, looking at the snow that was piled down this cold lonely sidewalk that led to Kyle's house. He sighed softly when he reached the door, knocking.

Kyle answered the door, eyes red and puffy. He whimpered.

"God damn it why the hell are you here?" He whined. Eric sighed and stepped in. He didn't know. Eric had made it deadly obvious and Kyle still had no fucking idea.

"Because I am worried about you, douchebag." He clipped the insult on. This wasn't familiar territory to him. Being nice to Kyle pained him, no matter how he felt about him.

"Worried about me? You killed my brother." He hissed. I felt a pang go through my chest.

He didn't see it. He didn't see the love in Eric's eyes. He didn't see the feelings Eric blocked. Eric sighed and shook his head.

"I don't remember doing it Kahl." He whispered. Kyle had more tears rolling down his cheeks now. It hurt. It hurt when you lost your baby brother at age fifteen to your enemy. When your ten year old brother is dead at a crime scene laying in his blood. When you fucking trusted someone and they killed someone you were close to.

"Fuck you. I actually fucking trusted you and you killed him! You fucking killed him!" Kyle screamed in anger, eyes brimming with tears. From what Eric heard Kyle had been depressed. Depressed just like him. Grieving just like him. He held onto Kyle tightly. He couldn't let him cry.

"Don't cry Jew. Please just don't fucking cry. Not right now. I've had enough fucking tears." He said, voice normal. He needed Kyle to stop fucking crying and understand.

Eric sighed. He couldn't put up with tears. He'd never been good at that kind of shit. Ever. He was a cold-blooded killer. He didn't have guilt, he once thought, but that all changed when this happened. The heist. The crime. The money. The murder. Suddenly he didn't care. He didn't care about any of it. He didn't care about the money he'd picked up from Kenny's. He just wanted to take it all back. To save Kyle from him. He didn't want the Jew to hurt any longer.

It pained him. Something he'd never thought he'd say, but it pained him to watch the mourning and sadness tear Kyle's sanity apart at the seams. He whined and held onto Kyle. The Jew fought against his grip. He doesn't love you, Eric thought, let him go. Eric released Kyle, being punched. He sighed, closing his eyes. He wanted to fix things. He opened his eyes.

"I'm trying to fix things, and I deserved that." He whispered, shaking his head.

Kyle couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Eric wasn't fighting back? He didn't care. He couldn't stand seeing the male any longer. He shook his head angrily. Things between them couldn't be mended, couldn't be fixed now.

"Get the fuck out of my house." He commanded. Eric felt his walls crumble down. The walls that kept him from breaking down in front of Kyle. He couldn't. He got up and ran out into the snow.

He whimpered and got only a few houses down before the tears started falling again. Fuck. Back to this. Back to the tears and guilt. Back to the pain aching in his heart. He shouldn't have tried. Shouldn't have tried to fix things. He couldn't do it. He couldn't make up for Ike. It was impossible. Kyle loved that little boy, and Eric selfishly took him away. Ended his life.

He couldn't believe how selfish he was. How fucking mean he could be to Kyle. He loved him, right? He didn't want to hurt the Jew, he never had wanted that. Never had desired to seriously scar him. He sighed and sunk down in the snow, eyes closed in sorrow.


	4. Vodka, Tears, and Shock

(Here guys, take this. Sorry serendipity711, you'll soon understand my apology.)

Eric had managed to walk to Kenny's home. During the waves of guilt and sorrow in the past that was always his first place to go. To retreat. To hide. To drink. To cry. Kenny knew him more than anyone else. Kenny was his best friend. He knocked on the door and whimpered slightly, mind blank. He was crying again. When the hell wasn't he these days? Kenny opened the door, blonde hair in his face. He sighed and opened the door for the larger male, just as he always had in the past.

Eric sat on Kenny's couch and looked helplessly at the poorer boy. He didn't understand. Why the hell did he deserve this. The pain. The guilt. The burning. The hatred. He sniffled and wiped his eyes. He couldn't do it for much longer. He couldn't bear the pain and sorrow inflicted upon him at all times. He couldn't deal with the stress and pain of knowing what he did, what he deserved to get. The fear of the jail time that would come when Kyle finally broke. The fear of losing him. Losing Kyle forever. He felt that he already had.

What the hell was he thinking? He had lost Kyle. Lost him forever. He killed his fucking brother. There was no making up for that. There never was, was there? He sighed softly and wiped his eyes again, sighing softly. He needed release.

"Ken, get me a bottle?" He asked, voice broken. Kenny nodded, eyes soft and walked in the kitchen. He returned with a bottle of Vodka. It was truly all that was up to his standards he could afford. He opened the bottle, pouring two glasses. Well, technically red solo cups. Eric took a large gulp of it, relishing the burning of the clear liquid as it stung its way down his throat. He sighed softly and sent Kenny a thankful gaze.

"What the hell happened?" Kenny asked, looking to Eric with worried eyes. Eric shook his head and whined. He was a fuck up. A murderer. A drunk. Needy.

"I tried to patch things up with Kahl." He whispered, eyes downcast. Kenny nodded, understanding, but sighed. He didn't like seeing Eric like this. He rolled his eyes.

"Stop crying. You killed Ike. Its a fact, now accept it and stop trying to fix things that are never going to be fixed." He said, voice cold. He'd been saying this for weeks, Eric thought, but still had no understanding of Eric's feelings for Kyle.

It was too late. There was no hope. No hope for anything anymore. What was the point of living with no hope t have what you aspire. Have what you love. The wounds wouldn't heal. The scars would never fade. The thoughts wouldn't leave him. He couldn't do this. He got up, looking at Kenny with tear filled eyes.

"I thought you gave a fuck." He whispered, walking off into the snow. He threw the cup of Vodka back in Kenny's face. He continued walking and sighed as he saw the house. Stan's house. That bastard, he thought, continuing to walk.

It was all Stan. Stan's fucking idea. Stan's fucking betrayal that fucked him over in the end. He tried so hard to convince Stan no one would say anything, but he was too afraid. It was Stan who suggested to kill the witness'. He fucking suggested it. Eric's eyes narrowed and he continued to walk. He hated Stanley Marsh with every fiber in his being. He needed to convey that. He couldn't do it now. Right now Stan was keeping Kyle alive, and he needed Kyle to be alive. He kept walking. Ignored the pang reminding him of the betrayal that pounded in his chest.

He whimpered as he turned to the last person he could trust. The little innocent thing he'd used all of his life. Butters. He knocked on the door, knowing Stephen would answer and let him in. He had to. He had blackmail on everyone, Stephen wasn't excluded. He knew his eyes were bloodshot. He was sure of it by now. He'd stopped crying, but the pain still was strong as it throbbed in his chest. Mr. Stotch let him in and he walked to Butters' room and sat on the bed. Butters began to wipe his tears.

"Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken." Eric said coldly, regretting it.

Don't push him away, Eric thought to himself, Butters is all you have. He understands. He sighed and relaxed in Butters' hold as he began to wipe the blood from Eric's face. He didn't register the pain from Kyle's blow. Kyle had broken his nose. Butters tended to his wounds and whispered soft words to soothe him. Eric didn't realize he was crying again until Butters wiped his tears. Eric brought him close.

"I'm a fu-fucking pussy." He whispered between sobs. Butters shook his head.

"No Eric... you aren't." He whispered, smiling softly at Eric as he tried to stop the tears.

His attempts helped as the tears stopped cascading down Eric's cheeks. He sighed and inhaled, meeting Butters' eyes. He couldn't believe this. He came and cried to Butters. This wasn't Butters' problem. No. It was his own. He shouldn't be putting the burden on Butters. He didn't care, Eric thought, Butters was there for him. He smiled weakly.

"Thank you Butters." He whispered, sighing. He couldn't believe it. Butters was there for him. He repeated the thought in his head like a mantra. Butters was there when Kenny wasn't.

He met Butters eyes and a gasp left his lips as Butters pressed their mouths together. Eric was frozen before he regained his senses. He pushed Butters off. He sighed. He couldn't do that. Butters knew that better than anyone. He smiled softly and sighed. He held Eric and Eric relaxed in his grip as he understood. Butters was just trying to calm him down by doing that. Butters didn't understand why it didn't work. Eric pulled away from the other male.

"Butters... why'd you do that?" He asked softly, voice thick with tears. He needed his suspicions confirmed before he could stop being on edge. Butters smiled softly and relaxed into his Hello Kitty bedspread. He really was the same Butters, Eric thought, the same Butters that always helped him no matter what. He sighed, waiting for the answer.

"Wuh-Well to make you stop crying." He smiled as he said the words.

He knew it. Butters wasn't trying to be romantic. He was just... Butters. Eric laughed in relief. Wait... did he just laugh. Yes. He did. Eric smiled triumphantly. He was actually smiling. Butters was helping him. Kyle wasn't even on his mind, well, until now. He sunk back into that depressed state. A soft sigh.

"Butters... what am I going to do?" He whined, depressed as he brought his knees back to his chest, thinking about the mistakes he'd been making.

He'd hurt Kyle. He'd walked out on Kenny. He'd been drinking much more often. He'd came back to South Park. He killed Ike. He tried to make up for his mistakes. He'd robbed a bank. He'd listened to Stan. He'd blacked out. He'd had that gun. He pulled the trigger. He ended Ike's life. He didn't remember killing Ike... wait.

The thoughts began coming, cogs turning in his brain. He had four bullets in the chamber when he left that night. He returned home and still had the four. He didn't recall killing Ike. He didn't remember killing anyone that night. He realized it now. All these months he'd been guilt ridden. All these months he'd been dead inside. He'd been avoiding Kyle. He'd been crying. He'd been running. He'd been afraid.

He gasped and a new sense of security covered him. His eyes fluttered closed and a gasp escaped his lips. He smiled warmly and his eyes snapped open, new life to the brown orbs as the realization made its course to his brain, a warm fuzzy feeling taking over his body and mind.

He didn't kill Ike Broflovski. He couldn't have. He didn't. Ike was killed. He got shot. Eric's gun wasn't shot that night. It was in his jacket all night. All of the memories came flooding back at once. Butters walked by... Butters walked by and had a gun. Butters had participated in the heist. He'd helped them in the end. Eric had called Butters for help. Eric had used Butters that night to get a ride. Butters was going to drive them back.

No... no it couldn't be true. Eric staggered away from Butters. He'd forced it out of his memory but it was true. He gasped.

"Y-You..." He whimpered, running out from the room. He'd have to tell Kyle. What was he thinking? He'd told Butters witnesses weren't allowed. No one would believe him but it was a fact and he remembered. He'd been the only one looking...

Eric Cartman didn't kill Ike, Butters did.


End file.
